Sweet Dreams
by iDevalu
Summary: Though Teito made it safely - more or less - to the Seventh District, it does not mean Ayanami has completely vanished from his life. First person POV. A bit...'disturbing' though not enough to be rated M. One-Shot


**A/N: This was all done in a spur-of-the-moment type of manner. I mean, I woke up at two in the frickin' morning, turned on my laptop, and created…**_**this**_**. If it sucks, I apologize, but my half-asleep mind thought it was pretty good :)

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**Sweet Dreams**

**One-Shot**

My heart was pounding furiously, causing a vein in the side of my head to throb painfully. Saltwater tickled the corners of my eyes, blurring my tunneled vision. I blinked furiously, quickly, but the water remained, replenished after only a second.

The faintest murmur of sound would flare my instincts, light them red-hot as I desperately searched to find the sound's origin. My eyes would dart around, to any sign of movement, but find nothing. Every time I turned too fast, my vision would blur and distort, causing my heart to hammer away for the lack of primal defense.

Breathing was difficult, as if something was caught in my throat. I tried to swallow but it was too large to push down with force alone. I could hear myself: the erratic breathing, the hitch after every missed exhale.

Sweat lined my palms, my forehead and the lightest trickle down the back of my neck. I slapped my nape as the faintest of whispers brushed my moist skin, as if a chilling icicle was brushing away my damp hair. I began scratching furiously, as if I could scratch away the disturbing sensation.

It was too dark to see anything but my immediate surroundings; my hand could disappear into the blackness if I stretched it out far enough. I shuddered to think of something – _someone_ – so close to me. Something lurking just within arms reach, walking along side me, and I could be none-the-wiser. Their footsteps would match mine so I wouldn't know. It was too dark to see. Too dark to know.

A cry hitched in my throat, saltwater blurring my useless vision. I kept my back and hands to the stone wall as I continued forward, sights kept the same way.

Strange noises nipped at my heels: soft cries, shrieks, howls, hisses and snarls. The gurgling sound of someone drowning, the laugh of a crazed hyena. All too stifled that they slurred into one sound, all too stifled that it could have been my imagination at work. _Just my imagination_.

Some morbid imagination, thought up by a dark nightmare. I did not remember how I surfaced in this scene: a world too dark to be real, a place too cold to hold life. So it had to be fact that it was my imagination. It _had_ to be fact. I should be asleep, in bed, waiting for tomorrow to come.

But the cold of a wind whispering silent murmurs, brushing ever so lightly against my exposed, moist flesh – it caused me to shudder, it caused me to squirm, it caused me to mentally break down and wish for an end. I wanted to wake up, I wanted it to stop.

Shadows would move, shift. They danced in my peripheral vision, taunting and drawing me closer to the world beyond my small circle of light – playing against my disoriented and exhausted mind. There was no way of knowing if they were real from sight alone. I had to touch but I didn't want to. What if that proved to be the one mistake that could finally end all this, in a way where I came out the loser?

I kept my tempted hands on the wall and continued into the nothingness. My skin bumped, pinching furiously against the bitter air. My breaths came out as white clouds, thin and dead. The sweat running down my face seemed to freeze on my skin, burn its way through until I was irritated all over. It felt as if a million ants were crawling along my bare skin, their six little legs pinching my flesh as they moved. I squirmed underneath my clothes.

Unable to bear it any longer, I ripped off my shirt and immediately dropped it onto the ground as hundreds of ants crawled along my arms and chest. I swatted, slapped, and brushed them away in a furious fashion. I scratched my head feverishly, feeling their tiny legs walking along the length of my scalp. But no matter how much I scratched, they remained, crawling their way into my ears, onto my face, and to the rest of my body. I slapped away at them but in the blink of an eye they disappeared. Not a single ant, not even a single carcass. The feeling remained, however. The shadow of their crawling numbers all over me.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't take the abuse. I wanted gone, I wanted out. I wanted my bed, I wanted reality.

"_This is reality…" _A voice, harsher than an artic blizzard, froze the skin on my neck, burning it deep that it flared red and purple.

I broke into a run, my instinct to flee masking the logical part of my mind that told me danger lay ahead. But I heed it no warning as I continued with blinding speed. Speed I never had, nor will I ever again. Overpowering adrenaline coursed through my veins, causing my muscles to twitch and constrict painfully. Spasms ripped through them, threatening to take me down. I should have listened; I should have paid attention to my overexerted body. But I continued to push it, blindly trust that it would get me to safety.

A muscle in my leg pulled together, causing my footing to slip. I expected harsh ground, I expected to gain a few bruises, scrapes, even a twisted ankle or wrist, but I did not expect an iron grip encircling my waist. I did not expect a cold body pressing against mine as I was pulled upward. I did not expect cold fingers to entrap both my wrists together in a vice-like hold.

My body shuddered, burning-frost rapidly spreading throughout my entire back, over my shoulders, and down my chest. I forced myself to breath – it came out a thick white smoke. My mind was sluggish, as if groggy with an adrenaline-high fog.

That hold around my waist released a fraction as icy fingers crawled their way up and down my stomach, light and deliberate touches, like the faintest brush of a feather. My skin bumped; whether against the cold or the fear, I was uncertain.

That touch continued, unwanted and distressing. My muscles along my abdomen constricted and shuddered, slinking away from the touch. I forced my eyes closed as my torture continued: shying away from it though it only pressed me closer to whatever was behind me. I could feel the rise and fall of their flat, broad chest.

Whatever had me prisoner, was certainly alive. The feel of their fingers, though cold, seemed unmistakably human. And the faint smell of gunpowder made the creature behind me even more realistic.

"Wha-what do you want?" I forced myself to speak, though it sounded rather submissive than the bravado I was trying to pull. The act alone had caused me a great deal of pain to do, physically and mentally.

I was so exhausted I wanted to collapse, to give up, though those butterfly touches made my body think otherwise. I reacted even though I wished not to; I jerked away even though I was too tired to try anymore. They continued to provoke unwanted responses and I just wanted it all to end.

"_It will…"_

I was shoved onto the wall with such force that the air was knocked out of me. My cheek scraped along the rough wall, scraping my skin open. My hands were pinned above my head, almost effortlessly by a single hand. I still did not struggle, until, when those slithering fingers began trailing the line of my bellybutton and continued south, I knew things were about to go horribly wrong.

I threw my weight to the body behind only to be slammed forward by their heavier bulk. My breathing came out erratic, forcing air through my mouth when I couldn't gain enough from my nose. I opened my eyes but could only see the wall I was pinned against. I couldn't turn my head, and if I tried, my cheek would gain a worse scraping.

Fear. It choked me, strangled me as useless water accumulated in my eyes. I forcefully shut them, the water running freely down my face. Though I could hear myself begging, I was certain that I had not told my mouth to speak. Yet, I continued to hear those pitiful words coming out of my mouth: _please, please, please…_

"_In time you will learn to crave me…"_

The weight behind me lessened, that exploring hand slithered its way up my chest and along my neck, catching my chin and pushing my head as far as my bones and joints in my neck would allow. My breathing still erratic, tears still streaming down my face, I pried my eyes open and gasped involuntarily. My breathing and tears stopped instantly, fear sitting heavy in the bottom of my stomach.

Auburn eyes watched me, amused by my reaction. They seemed to glow in the darkness, like twin rubies belonging to a venomous snake. His lip curled into a smirk, one that said more than a book of words ever could. He was dangerous, deadly. And that was just the title of the first chapter. He drew closer, pale lips brushing lightly against mine as he spoke my name, slowly, extending each syllable. _"Teito Klein."_

A flash.

Dark.

I woke with a start. The heavy blanket still hung around my waist as I bolted upright in bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. I looked about hectically, my heart hammering in my throat.

My room. I was back in my room. I looked down to my bed – the blanket was in tangles around my legs, my pillow had fallen to the ground. Slowly, my racing heart began to calm. My erratic breathing began to still, and my running mind began to ease.

It had been a nightmare. Just a bad dream.

"…Teito?"

I turned to the groggy voice, forcing a smile to my face once I caught sight of my roommate's sleepy violet eyes in the dim lunar light.

"I'm alright, Hakuren. Bad dream. Go back to bed." I mentally sighed when my voice didn't hitch or betray my true emotions.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

He seemed to accept the answer, probably because he wanted to go back to sleep, and rearranged himself to do just that. As he brought his blankets closer to himself, he turned back to me, looking a bit more serious than before.

"You're cheek's bleeding, by the way." He turned his head away and soon the soft sound of his snoring hung like a mist in our shared room.

I swallowed, hard. Forced myself to breathe evenly, quietly.

I must have done it to myself: my bleeding cheek. My dream had seemed too livid that I had unconsciously injured myself. It could be the only explanation.

The Chief of Staff, Ayanami, was only a man.

A man who had tried to kill me once before. It only made sense that I would have nightmares about him trying to do harm to me again.

There. A logical answer.

Once finally calming myself down, I picked up my pillow off the floor and beat it into submission. I threw my head onto it and fixed my blanket, snuggling close to my pillow. With a sigh, my tired mind was already half gone once I closed my eyes. So much so, that I did not recognize Hakuren's voice when he said: _"Sweet Dreams."

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**A/N: I got chills when I wrote the last sentence. I seriously did. ( o_o);; Then again, I was listening to Moonlight Sonata at two o'clock in the morning. **


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